


Green Seas, Green Skies

by Shadaras



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (but no actual fucking; just foreplay), Biting, F/F, Fighting as part of fucking, Setting: Star Wars Universe, predatory instincts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21696463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Elizabeth pulls her in, and though Ahsoka could resist she doesn’t want to. She wants this, if she’s being honest with herself, wants the pleasure  of another person’s body against hers, if only for brief moments. And if that’s all either of them want—her lips curve into a smile that just barely shows her fangs, and she lets Elizabeth feel like she has the upper hand for that brief moment, falls into her kiss like it’s the only thing she wants—then so much the better.
Relationships: Elizabeth Swann/Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Writing Rainbow Green





	Green Seas, Green Skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRaven/gifts).



> please understand that I have been looking at your Ahsoka likes for AGES going 'oooh I wanna write Ahsoka like that' but never quite having time/finding the right ship, but THIS pairing was way too good to pass up <3
> 
> Have fun! I certainly did. :3

The setting sun turns the sea the same green as bruises, and Elizabeth Swann says, “Stay.”

Ahsoka’s hands tighten on the windowsill, but she doesn’t let herself turn around. “I need to keep moving,” she says, and hates the truth of it. 

“You needn’t stay forever.” Elizabeth walks up behind her, and Ahsoka’s montrals hum with the motion. She keeps her body still, not wanting to give anything away, and Elizabeth takes that for the invitation it isn’t and reaches out.

“Don’t,” Ahsoka says, fast enough that she doesn’t need to think about why she isn’t letting herself be touched. “I don’t—”

“You don’t what?” Elizabeth’s hand hovers, beautifully still, mere inches from Ahsoka’s shoulder. “You don’t want to stay?” Her voice is a challenge, and Ahsoka’s body tenses with it as Elizabeth scoffs and says, “I don’t think that’s true.”

It isn’t. And that’s the problem, as far as Ahsoka’s concerned. She gets involved, she gets invested, and then she needs to leave and all it does is hurt. She turns around, using the speed and agility the Jedi trained her to, and lets the Force brush aside Elizabeth’s fingers before they can touch her cheek. “Is one night really all you’re asking for?” She meets Elizabeth’s eyes, which are far calmer than she would have expected. “I have already given you more than I was required to.”

They both know it’s true; Ahsoka could have left as soon as she’d finished dismantling the Calypso Project’s deep-sea base. She could have left after reporting her findings, or after making sure that the ringleaders had been taken into proper custody. She could have left any time in the last day, and yet—

Here she was, in the heart of King Elizabeth Swann’s manor, after having stayed for dinner with this woman who had consolidated the myriad privateer clans of Jamai’i into one shifting but mostly-stable government that she ruled. But Elizabeth, with her smirk and raised eyebrows and beautifully-embroidered formal jacket, only says, “One night, and the promise that should you ever return to my world you’ll visit me.”

Ahsoka can hear how calm Elizabeth’s heartbeat is, can smell no lies in her sweat—only the honest scent of humid air and hard work and the sea, always the sea, brine and seaweed and oily fish. It’s a good smell, one that she’s come to enjoy, and Ahsoka breathes it in. Elizabeth doesn’t rush her, though Ahsoka can feel her impatience growing. _It isn’t so much,_ Ahsoka thinks, and raises her eyes from Elizabeth to the manor, old wood and technology hidden by bright lacquer. A beautiful building. One she didn’t mind the thought of returning to.

At last she extends her hand in the small space between them (she could touch Elizabeth, if she chooses to; she doesn’t) and says, “I agree to your terms.”

Elizabeth shakes her hand, eyes bright. “Excellent.”

Then Elizabeth pulls her in, and though Ahsoka could resist she doesn’t want to. She wants this, if she’s being honest with herself, wants the pleasure of another person’s body against hers, if only for brief moments. And if that’s all either of them want—her lips curve into a smile that just barely shows her fangs, and she lets Elizabeth feel like she has the upper hand for that brief moment, falls into her kiss like it’s the only thing she wants—then so much the better.

The kiss is good. Elizabeth isn’t afraid of seeming pushy, and after the first brush of lips, Ahsoka lets Elizabeth’s tongue enter her mouth and dart around her fangs. The sensation runs through her mouth, electric, and Ahsoka resists the urge to just bite down on Elizabeths’ tongue with all she has. Instead, she waits until Elizabeth withdraws and bites down upon her lips instead. Elizabeth’s stuttered moan is all she could ask for, and Ahsoka shifts her hands so that she’s got Elizabeth tight against her body.

“Ahsoka,” Elizabeth manages to say, as Ahsoka starts nipping her way down Elizabeth’s neck, “is my office truly the best place for this?”

Ahsoka licks at Elizabeth’s pulse. Her ancestors were predators, and she is never so aware of that as when she has a lover at her mercy; even the thrill of hunting her prey as a Jedi never seems as vivid as the beat of blood just a skin’s-breadth away from her teeth. But she remembers herself, and her manners, enough to not lose herself, and instead says, “Did you have another location in mind?”

“My bedroom.”

Ahsoka stops, and pulls back, and looks at Elizabeth: Pale skin flushed already, lips bruise-swollen, and the tiniest scratches on her neck that Ahsoka’s fairly certain wouldn’t be visible to a human without enhancement. Combined with the almost-military navy-blue and sea-green uniform Elizabeth wears, especially its golden embroidery, she’s a lovely sight. Ahsoka smiles, and says, “Lead the way.”

Elizabeth does, with all the self-confidence that such a ruler should have, and Ahsoka stalks behind her. It isn’t far—Elizabeth’s offices connect through back halls to the suite of rooms she calls her own—but Ahsoka can feel her aching desire threaten to grow into frustration. She has learned patience in many situations, but sex is one place where she has trouble; it’s so basal, so immediate, and she so rarely has time for it that she can’t bring herself to deny the instinct that says to catch and hold and claim with everything she has.

So she lasts until Elizabeth opens the door to her room—and Ahsoka can smell that it is, knows in a single sniff that it’s hers—and then pounces. She doesn’t use the Force; she doesn’t need to, not when her legs are strong and her body is trained and Elizabeth isn’t expecting her or resisting at all. Her hands rest on Elizabeth’s shoulders, and she carries them to the ground (using the Force to ensure that she doesn’t break her lover, and then to shut the door again), resting her lips at the nape of Elizabeth’s neck.

Elizabeth’s breathing quickens as Ahsoka slowly brushes aside her hair and bites down, hard enough that it has to hurt, but she doesn’t cry out. Her hands clench against the ground, and her body bucks up where it rests between Ahsoka’s legs, but she manages to avoid anything but a gasp that turns into a groan as Ahsoka sucks, tasting the bruise she’ll be leaving, this mark that will let anyone who looks see that Elizabeth Swann let another take her pleasure.

“Ahsoka,” Elizabeth gasps, as she noses further down and pulls the collar of Elizabeth’s jacket aside. “Ahsoka, I didn’t—the bed, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka just hums against Elizabeth’s skin. The floor is perfectly suitable, covered as it is with thick carpet. But Elizabeth, for all her daring charms, is a ruler’s daughter, not a rogue agent whose beds are as likely to be leaves as downy pillows. More likely, really. She strokes her hands along Elizabeth’s arms, drawing them out to their full length, and presses down upon her wrists. “Why?” Ahsoka asks, as she nips Elizabeth’s earlobe.

Elizabeth’s breath is quick, her heartbeat loud and pounding in Ahsoka’s montrals. “It’s softer.” She squirms underneath Ahsoka, who can’t hold back her own moan at the sensation of strong muscle and soft flesh pressing up against her hips. “I want to touch you, too.”

Ahsoka bites another kiss into the side of Elizabeth’s mouth, feeling the strain of Elizabeth’s body as she turns to meet it as best she can. “What if I don’t want you to touch me?”

“Then—ah!” Elizabeth gasps as Ahsoka’s hands tighten on her wrists and teeth dig into the muscle of her neck. But she keeps going, words clear through her panting. “Then fight me for that right. No Force, just—” she thrusts up with her hips, gaining more space with the surprise than Ahsoka would have guessed, and pulls her knees up underneath them “—just our bodies,” Elizabeth finishes, and shoves again, trying to flip them over.

Ahsoka laughs and goes with the motion, pushing off Elizabeth’s wrists until she can flip in the air and land on her feet. “Just our bodies,” she says, as Elizabeth stands—more slowly than she did, but no less gracefully—and she bares her teeth in a smile.

Elizabeth smiles too, the flyaway hairs framing her face just adding to her beauty. “Ready for some fun?” she asks, settling into a stance Ahsoka recognises as a duellist’s.

“Always,” Ahsoka answers, body already singing with the thrill.

Then Elizabeth darts in, and the real play begins.


End file.
